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As my girls head back to their second year of college, the memories of my family’s past summers are making me exceptionally nostalgic this year. Last week I walked Cape Cod’s, Town Neck Beach in Sandwich before heading north to Vermont.

So much flooded back to me…oh, the remarkable nostalgia of middle age.

While admiring the rocks, I got an idea for a photo series and a way I could honor this time of transition.

My memories feel both permanent and somewhat elusive, they can come and go as the tide shifts…just like these rocks do every six hours.

New England Patriot’s recently retired tight end, Rob Gronkowski once remarked, “I just like the beaches in summer, man.”

Since I’m not a twin, I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like for my girls to split up and go to different colleges. I have a hunch they can’t quite imagine what it’s going to feel like either. Please note the title of the article in the first beach picture. I believe it’s about the Kardashians, however, with high school graduation looming, it’s a funny photo to unearth at this time. Oh, the irony of life, isn’t it grand?

My twin daughters are graduating from high school on Thursday, June 14th at 10am and nostalgia along with a handful of other complex and occasionally irrational emotions are settling into my midlife psyche. For so long photographing my girls was my muse, something creative I could do all the time. However, as they got older (and had cameras in their pockets) I photographed them less frequently together. I have plenty of travel and birthday photos, but I can see now as the years progressed, they increasingly grew into their individuality, less of a unit and I followed their lead. Now, every photo has to be “approved” which I can understand for a 17-year-old coming-of-age in this era and about to graduate from high school.

Here’s to honoring nostalgia however it surfaces in your life. I know for me, it’s helping the transition to an empty nest to take a look back. I’m less anxious that I could’ve been a better mother and prepared them more by seeing these photographs through a slightly different lens. A pleasant byproduct of middle age wisdom, I suppose.

When my three kids were young, to offer a little grace at the end of those seriously ass-kicking days, I would ask myself:

“Did you love them more than you were pissed off at them today?”

The answer was always the same. I can live with that.

There are so many photographs to sort through, here are a few of my favorite black & white shots of Lucy and Willa.

here in Burlington, Vermont. My twin girls will be seniors next year so I’m heading into my last year of parenting kids in high school. I’m finding myself feeling uniquely nostalgic. I’m not sad about the inevitable transition, but I am mindful.

I have friends whose oldest or only children are graduating on Friday. It’s big. When my son graduated from high school in 2014, I was sort of a mess. I believe there’s just something about transitions that requires us to take stock of our emotions.

The summer between my junior year and senior year of high school was rough for me. I had a lot of friends in the class above me and they were all leaving for college and other adventures. Every time during their senior year when we played a ball game, sang in a concert or went to the drive-in movie theater it felt like we were saying goodbye to our childhoods.

Last weekend in South Dakota I got to spend time with some of those friends who graduated a year ahead of me. It was great! I simply cannot believe how much time has passed…1983 and 1984 just don’t seem all that long ago in some ways. I’m very aware of how my daughters are feeling this last summer before they graduate from high school…perhaps even a little too aware.

I guess to honor life’s transitions, we need to slow down a little and try to understand what it is we’re feeling…the good, the bad and the slightly confusing.

Lately I’ve been thinking about my “shitty roommate”. This is my personal inner voice—she makes me doubt myself all the time. She puts those snarky thoughts in my head that I’m “not good enough”, “not reaching my potential” or “if only you were more like…”.

Shame is the inner language of self-attack and self-blame AND shame is my shitty roommate’s jam.

Instead of trying to kick her out (which is exhausting and nearly impossible), I’ve decided to get more curious about her…even love her up a bit. Yes, she’s manipulative AND she also has pushed me. We’re really quite competitive. When she has my ear, she’s granted me the opportunity to self-correct behavior that doesn’t line up with my values, seek forgiveness from those I’ve wronged or offer myself a little grace.

But now, it’s time to change the rules of engagement using one short sentence.

The more I say it, the more power it has for all sorts of situations in my life.

When I question her language, my shitty roommate just puts her headphones on and leaves me alone until the next time…and there will always be a next time. She hates those three words, however, we do seem to be getting along a little better lately.

Late night road trips and learning to drink coffee in my Grandmother’s kitchen are a few of my favorite memories. I’m 49-years-old and I’m pretty sure there are a few trips during high school and college I’ve selectively forgotten to tell my folks about. It’s a damn good thing I learned to love coffee though—it’s kept me alert and safe on the road for a very long time. Grandma would be proud of that. She always was such a worrier.

This week my husband and I took our son to college in Milwaukee. He’s a freshman attending the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design or MIAD. Milwaukee is a great city and the local coffee shop is Colectivo Coffee. My son, Ellis has been a big coffee drinker since the age of 9—thanks to friends who own Mirabelles in Burlington, Vermont.

I just loved the aesthetic and color story of Colectivo and now have a good sense of where he’ll be hanging out with new friends. On Thursday morning, my husband Jeff and I were having breakfast at the one located on Lake Michigan. I started talking to a Timothy Kloss who was sketching and reading something very amusing at the next table. Turns out his Dad (Gerald Kloss) was a humor columnist for the Milwaukee Journal. Timothy proceeded to recite a beautiful piece his Dad had written about him when he was two about a robin being just out of his reach. Anyway, it was an interesting morning at the coffee shop and I am sure that Ellis will create many memories hanging out there too. Maybe one day he will even get to the weekly poetry/painting night Timothy hosts. Here’s all the links. Have a great Saturday!

About Me

I'm an artist/writer/photographer raised in South Dakota, living in Vermont, exploring identity through writing, images and research. Please email me if you would like to start a conversation. I always appreciate hearing someone's story.

email: lllillibridge@gmail.com

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